“They might be in the phone book.” She hesitated. “You don’t think Oliver had anything to do with Eugene’s death, do you?”
“Probably not. But it’s worth asking a few questions.” Besides, he’d done all he could on the cold cases he’d been struggling with for three years. He needed a new angle, and looking further into Burke’s past might provide it.
“That would be so awful.”
He agreed and disconnected, then called Tiny on his cell.
“What’s up?” Tiny said.
“When you see Burke, ask him how well he knew a boy named Eugene Zufelt.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“I’m curious about his reaction. See if he attended the funeral, too.”
“You gonna explain this to me?”
“Later.” David checked his watch and grabbed his jacket. Jeremy was just getting out of school. “I’ve gotta go.” If he hurried, maybe he could pick up his son before Jeremy walked the half block home from school and mentioned Skye to Lynnette.
13
“So how’d it go last night?” Jasmine asked, poking her head into Skye’s office.
Skye pretended to be more engrossed in the letter she was writing than she really was. “Fine.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
She scowled. After leaving David’s apartment this morning, she’d gone home, showered and returned to the office, but she hadn’t bothered with makeup. She wondered if she looked as sleep-deprived and grumpy as she felt. “What do you want me to say?”
Jasmine sauntered in. Half East Indian, she had the darkest complexion of the three of them—beautiful golden skin—and unusual blue, almond-shaped eyes. At only five-four and less than 100 pounds, she was also the shortest and slimmest. She could eat anything and never gain a pound. “You know what I want you to say. Did you sleep with him?”
Sheridan had already asked her the same thing. “No,” she answered curtly.
“No?”
Jasmine sounded almost as disappointed as Skye was, but Skye didn’t want to hear it and certainly didn’t want to discuss it. She tried to reread the line she’d just written to the chief of police, once again asking him to support one of their events. But it was impossible to concentrate. “He’s going back to her, like I said,” she muttered when Jasmine didn’t leave.
“He said that?”
“More or less.” For a second, she considered telling Jasmine about the call she’d received from Lynnette. Lynnette’s words still churned inside her because they suggested she’d actively pursued someone else’s man. But Skye hadn’t come near David when he was married. During those times, they didn’t even speak, except perfunctorily over the phone and only regarding Burke. But why complain about Lynnette? It didn’t matter. Skye was putting her feelings for David behind her. Much to Sheridan’s chagrin, she’d already asked Charlie to be her escort to the fund-raiser tomorrow night. And he’d agreed.
“Something’s wrong with that detective,” Jasmine said, dropping onto Skye’s couch.
“When David commits, he commits.”
“Does that mean you’re finished with him?”
The letter. Keep working on the letter. Otherwise, Jasmine will see that it’s killing you to answer this question. “Of course. Why would I go on being stupid?”
“Loving someone isn’t stupid. I’d actually like to fall in love.”
This succeeded in pulling Skye away from her computer. “Even with a man who doesn’t love you back?”
“Even with a man who doesn’t love me back. Then maybe I could feel something besides the emptiness I feel now.” Sighing, she leaned back and gazed up at the pictures above her head. “This is creepy, Skye,” she said, her tone suddenly far less wistful. “You know that, don’t you?”
Skye had started typing again. We would be delighted to honor you for what you’ve already done for the community and… “What’s creepy?”
“That there are pictures of psychopaths hanging on your wall. Doesn’t it bother you to have them staring down at you?”
Skye studied the pictures. “Sometimes. A lot of times,” she admitted. “But they motivate me. They’re the reason I show up here each day, despite knowing I’ll never get rich, never be completely safe, never be able to forget what I’ve seen and heard.”
Jasmine stood and clapped her hands once. “Aren’t we a barrel of laughs today.”
As long as they were talking about such serious subjects… “Any word on the man who killed that little girl in Fort Bragg?” Skye asked.
Her face pale, Jasmine moved toward the door. “No.”
“They’ll find him,” Skye said, feeling guilty for being so wrapped up in her own problems.
Jasmine paused and turned toward her. “He works at the lumber mill.”
Skye froze. “How do you know that?”
“I keep seeing the saws. Every time I close my eyes, there are saws. Loud, deafening, going around and around, slicing through one log after another.”
“Have you called the police?”
“Of course.”
“Do they believe you?”
“Probably not. But they’ve promised to take a blood sample from every worker who’s willing to be tested.”
“They have a DNA profile?”
“Not yet. But they found se**n on the body and sent it to a lab.”
Skye grimaced at the mental picture that created. It was so distasteful, she needed a moment to reel in her reaction, but then she said, “If the killer works there, he’ll simply refuse.”
“Then they’ll take a closer look at him, and maybe they’ll find cause to make it compulsory.”
Skye studied her friend’s face, mystified and a little frightened, as usual, by her gift. He works at the lumber mill…. “Can you tell me where the man who’s been following me works?” she quipped, only half-joking.
Concern flooded Jasmine’s face as she approached the desk. “Someone’s been following you?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Something’s going on. I’m not sure what.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Does he drive an old Jaguar?”
Skye’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re…what? Seeing an old Jaguar in some sort of vision?”